


At Least For Now

by yet_intrepid



Series: fool enough to fight [8]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kittens, Shiro (Voltron)'s Missing Year, Shiro Week 2016, Space Kittens, mentions of amputation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 07:16:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8657095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yet_intrepid/pseuds/yet_intrepid
Summary: "The upside, he reminds himself, is that he doesn’t have a fight slated for tomorrow. As far as he knows, he doesn’t have a work shift, either, though that can always change at the last second. But there’s a chance—at least a chance—that he can spend tomorrow curled up on his thin mattress, resting his arm against the cool wall to help the swelling go down."(Day Six of Shiro Week: day off / break.)





	

The lights are all spinning as Shiro drags himself back to his cell. The guard behind him pushes at his shoulder, trying to up his pace; Shiro groans through his teeth and tries his damnedest. The shoulder is astoundingly sore, swollen too, and he’d do anything to keep it from being prodded at right now.

The guard knows it’s sore, that’s for sure. He keeps pushing in the very same spot, heel of his hand against the joint and fingers nudging right where his stump ends, where it fuses with the weight of Galra steel. Everything’s a little blurry. Shiro keeps his head down, keeps walking.

The upside, he reminds himself, is that he doesn’t have a fight slated for tomorrow. As far as he knows, he doesn’t have a work shift, either, though that can always change at the last second. But there’s a chance—at least a chance—that he can spend tomorrow curled up on his thin mattress, resting his arm against the cool wall to help the swelling go down.

When they reach the right cell, the guard pushes Shiro one last time. He doesn’t fall, thankfully, just sort of stumbles in as the door clicks and locks behind him.

The cell is empty, his cellmates still on their work assignments or busy training for the arena, and Shiro is grateful. His arm is killing him; even the brush of his sleeve hurts like hell. He stumbles over to his mattress and starts to sit down.

As he does, there’s movement in the dim light—something on the wall beside his bed.

Shiro blinks at it for a moment before his instincts take over. His uninjured left arm shoots out, grabbing at whatever’s there.

“Meeeeewww!”

Shiro flinches back. What he touched was soft, and that sound—

He squints again, adjusting to the cell’s low light. The whatever-it-is scampers the rest of the way down the wall and bumps up against his feet. Shiro crouches down and scoops it up.

“Meeww!”

It’s a kitten. Or something like one, anyway—it seems to be purple, and its tail is absurdly long compared to its body. And its paws, when Shiro touches them, are sticky.

“That’s how you climbed the wall, huh?” he asks. His English is a bit clumsy; he hasn’t used it with another person in months. But it seems strange to speak to the cat in Galra. “Climbed right down with your sticky little paw pads, yes you did.”

The kitten mews at him again. It’s so tiny, easily cupped in his hand, and it’s soft. Nothing on this ship is soft. Shiro feels something inside him open up as he lowers himself to sit on the mattress, leaning his right arm against the wall.

“How did you get in here, anyway?” he asks the kitten, who starts climbing on his knees as soon as he sets it down. “Did you climb in through the ducts? Are there space mice for you to chase up there? There’s probably some in here, if you want.”

It hops off his legs onto the mattress and nuzzles against him. The thought flashes through Shiro’s mind that he can’t be sure this animal is safe; it could have poisonous saliva or something; it might want to eat him alive. But he doesn’t have the energy to dwell on that, not when he can run his fingers through soft fur and feel, for the first time in ages, that there’s one living being who cares if he’s around.

“You got a name, kitty cat?” he asks, scratching under its chin. It purrs at him, and the last of his defenses crumble to nothing. “Did anyone give you a name?”

He thinks of the Holts, then, with a sharp pang. Matt had a cat, back at home. A dog, too. _Matey and Cat,_ he’d explained, when Shiro asked. _Cat’s the dog._

 _Wait_ , Shiro had said. _But your sister—she’s Katie. Right? You’re Katie and Matt._

 _And the pets are Matey and Cat!_ Matt had beamed. Across the cell—or was it the ship? Shiro can’t remember—Doc Holt had groaned at Matt’s enthusiasm, and Shiro had laughed.

“Matt would give you a better name than I can,” Shiro says to the kitten now, sighing. “Sticks? Can I call you Sticks?”

The kitten doesn’t seem offended, at any rate, so Shiro shrugs, remembering too late how much pain is living in his right shoulder. He groans a little.

“I’m glad you’re here, Sticks,” he says. “You could stick around if you wanted—” and then he grimaces. “Maybe I am as bad as Matt, huh. That was terrible. But you know, it’s a little lonely in here when everybody’s working. And it’s nice to have you keeping me company.”

Sticks, still purring loudly, climbs back onto his knees and curls up there. Shiro thinks about scooping the kitten up and moving it so he can lie down, but instead he just leans back against the wall and closes his eyes. Everything is still swirling behind his closed eyelids, masses of pain and confusion and fear, but at least for now he can rest. There’s a kitten curled on his lap; there’s no one around to hit him or yell. And he knows it’ll go away, that everything will rush back at him before long—but for now, at least for now, he feels a little bit safe.


End file.
